


Seven Days of Torture, Seven Days of Bitter

by onceahuskyalwaysahusky



Category: Glee
Genre: Blangst, Canon Gay Relationship, Friendship, Gay Bashing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Klaine, M/M, Niff, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prom Queen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceahuskyalwaysahusky/pseuds/onceahuskyalwaysahusky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The McKinley High Junior Prom was like a stone thrown into the still waters that were Blaine Anderson's life. As the ripples spread and multiply, the untold details of the Warbler's past are revealed to his boyfriend Kurt and the New Directions. (Contains strong language, homophobic slurs, depictions of PTSD and gay bashing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Been a Really Really Messed Up Week

The 2011 William McKinley High School Junior Prom was over.

Thank God.

Hand in hand, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson walked through the school's darkened hallways. Kurt still wore the crown he'd received when his fellow students had "honored" him by electing him Prom Queen. His expression was impassive; only his tight-set lips betrayed the feeling of utter humiliation he kept bottled up inside.

It had taken all Kurt's inner strength for him not to have puked on the spot when, after opening the envelope, Principal Figgins had regretfully announced his name as the winner. Though he'd run from the gymnasium, Kurt refused to let the haters win; in the end, he'd drawn on Blaine's love and support, gone back in there and accepted that crown with all the dignity he could muster.

Exhausted, Kurt leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder and squeezed his boyfriend's hand.

Blaine automatically squeezed back. Haunted by his own demons, he couldn't wait to get the hell away from this school. Only his feelings for Kurt had gotten him through the night. (That and the four swigs of liquid courage he'd secretly taken from the silver flask tucked away in his breast pocket. Just before leaving Dalton Academy that afternoon, his roommate had slipped it in there; more than anyone, Jeff had known how hard this night was going to be for him.)

He'd done it. No one—not even Kurt—knew how he'd felt tonight. A natural performer, Blaine had put on a good act. He'd _never_ been swept up in Kurt's pie-in-the-sky enthusiasm; he'd always known _something_ bad was gonna go down tonight.

A chill prickled through his body. _Better a secret hate-ballot, than having the shit kicked outta_ —

And before his overactive mind could finish that thought, Blaine focused on singing the last song he'd performed tonight in his head to block it out:

 _We're goin' at it tonight, tonight_  
_There's a party on the rooftop, top of the world_  
_Tonight, tonight_  
_And we're dancin' on the edge of the Hollywood sign_

 _I don't know if I'll make it_  
_But watch how good I'll fake it_  
_It's all right, all right_  
_Tonight, tonight_

The other kids of New Directions walked with them, forming what someone might think was a protective circle around the pair.

Leading the pack, Puck and Lauren Zizes marched like soldiers who'd taken point. Both scowled as they scanned the shadows for any random dickwad stupid enough to say one word to their boy Hummel. Any fool could tell they were itching to get their hands on whoever had rigged the vote.

They were the last group to leave. Not wanting to give those knuckle-dragging haters the satisfaction of chasing him off (or risk encountering them in the dark parking lot), Kurt had insisted on staying until after the prom was over. So the others had stayed, too, to give their friend what support they could.

Blaine cracked a small smile as he glanced around at the group of jocks, cheerleaders, geeks, divas and whatnot. At Dalton, he'd marveled over Kurt's stories on how music and the adversity of life at McKinley had welded this mismatched band into a real (though often dysfunctional) family.

As they made their way to the main entrance, the group was followed by Sue Sylvester. The abrasive Cheerios' coach was telling them to "shake their cans" so she could get back to the gym and watch—as she put it—"that assortment of clueless wetbacks Figgins had hired to clear up" before they could make off with "everything that wasn't nailed down or red hot."

Already seriously pissed at having lost the Prom Queen election _and_ being abandoned by her so-called "boyfriend"— _Thanks much, Karofsky, you asshole closet-case!—_ Santana Lopez whipped her head around. Before she could launch one of her signature cutting replies to Sue's racial slur, Brittany gently took her hand and murmured something in her ear. Santana's stormy expression softened as she listened to the blonde's calming words.

After a side-glance at Kurt, Santana let it drop and linked pinkies with the other girl. Instead, she channeled her anger on a scheme to flush out the bitches who'd masterminded this _Carrie_ redux and attacked Kurt with those write-in votes. God knew she and Tim Gunn, Jr. weren't even the best of frenemies—let alone friends—but New Directions was _family_.

And Santana protected her family.

The group filed out the doors into the cool night air. Puck and Zizes still moved like they were doing recon in enemy territory. Sam Evans' inner dork couldn't help thinking how much they reminded him of Drake and Vasquez, the two badass Colonial Marines in _Aliens;_ all they were missing were those wicked cool "smart-guns".

After flicking his way-too-long hair out of his eyes, Sam glanced at Kurt and Blaine. Kurt was putting on the brave face and everything, but Sam knew that _Blaine_ was the one really on edge. Behind all the charm and the big show smile, it was obvious to him that the poor guy had been stressed and anxious all night.

Like he was gonna lose it any second.

Sam sighed. With the Evans family now broke and homeless and living in a shitty motel room, he knew all too well what _that_ looked and felt like these days.

The boys who'd driven went to get their cars. Not surprisingly, Kurt had painstakingly educated the abysmally clueless New Directions men in prom etiquette—one: that a corsage shouldn't resemble a parade float...two: always open the door for your date...three: pull out your date's chair for her...and, most importantly, four: a lady must never _ever_ be made to trudge across a parking lot to her ride.

When he noticed Quinn shiver in the night air, Blaine, ever the gentleman, draped his tuxedo jacket around her shoulders. He then jogged off, trying to catch up with the other guys—his stomach clenching at the thought of being caught alone in the parking lot.

No one wanted to hash over the whole Prom Queen incident in front of Kurt; to break the awkward silence, the girls began to gossip about who wore what _(and_ what _were they thinking?!)_ and who came with who _(and who'd left with someone_ different). Pulling the jacket more closely around herself, Quinn exchanged a sad smile with the boy who'd unintentionally beaten her out for Prom Queen.

As Blaine pulled up to the curb in his red Jaguar convertible, both Kurt and Quinn saw a familiar blue pick-up drive up and park in the first row of spaces.

Finn.

Kurt watched Quinn's smile fade as his step-brother leaped from his truck, still wearing his now-rumpled tux. As he focused on Quinn, his face was a mixture of guilt and regret. Finn Hudson's emotions were always written all over his face; that's why the guys loved playing poker with him.

Kurt knew Finn was conflicted. After breaking up with Rachel, Finn had pursued Quinn and won her back. But for some reason he'd just totally _lost_ it tonight after watching the extreme PDA between Rachel and her date, Jesse St. James. In the process, Finn's jealousy had cost he and Quinn the prom-royalty title she so desperately coveted—not to mention publicly humiliating her—when he'd taken a swing at Jesse and been ejected for fighting.

He was about ten feet away when Quinn stopped him in his tracks with a sharp stage-whispered _"Don't...!"_

Putting on her best ice-queen game face, she turned away, slipped her hand into the crook of Blaine's arm and allowed him to escort her to his car. Looking like a smacked puppy, Finn watched Blaine help Quinn into the back seat of the Jag.

As Kurt stepped forward, he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. He flinched before remembering that Sue Sylvester was still standing behind him.

"Some prom, Porcelain," she muttered with something resembling sympathy in a voice only Kurt could hear. Before Kurt could look up, she'd stepped back into the school and closed the doors. " _Caballeros_ , the taco break is over!" she shouted as she turned on her heel. "I once took three bullets for the director of the INS! He's on my speed-dial! So if you want to..." Her voice faded as she marched back toward the gym.

By this time, Quinn had carefully arranged her flowing skirts inside the car. Before Blaine could pull the front seat upright, Kurt quickly climbed in and sat beside her, taking her hand.

Blaine's heart melted. After all that had happened, Kurt could still comfort someone else who had been hurt tonight. Slamming the door shut, he walked around to the driver's side.

The other boys went over to check on Finn. After one last concerned glance at Blaine, Sam asked Finn if he had finished kicking Jerkoff St. Douchebag's sorry ass. Still staring at Quinn, it took Finn a few seconds to process that someone was talking to him.

Before Blaine could get in the car, Puck strode over to him. "Hey, Preppy McHairGel, we're all headin' over to Denny's now. My fine full-figured gal's got a serious hankerin' for a double steak and eggs. You in?"

Before Blaine could respond, Puck lowered his voice to say, "C'mon, dude. It'll be okay. We look after our own." The mohawked jock was clearly concerned.

Blaine shook his head. "Thanks, but I offered to drive Quinn home. Besides, I think Kurt just wants to be alone."

Suddenly, Puck was smiling. "I getcha, dude," he said, slyly winking.

Before Blaine could ask what he meant (though he already had a pretty good idea), Zizes lumbered over, clearly annoyed—but then Blaine could never remember _not_ seeing her look annoyed. "Well, Pocket Prince, are you comin' or what?" she asked.

 _Blaine. Please, my name is_ Blaine," he silently pleaded. _What is with these McKinley kids and nicknames?_ Before Blaine could say anything, Puck turned to her and smirked, "Hey, baby, it's cool. Warbler Boy and Hummel wanna go get their gay on and make a Prom Night memory."

Blaine choked. _WHAT—?! Where the hell had_ that _come from?_ Inside the car, Kurt's head snapped up, looking as embarrassed as someone's maiden aunt who'd unexpectedly discovered Skinemax.

Zizes narrowed her eyes. "Cool." She held out her fist, and it was just easier for Blaine to bump it than try to talk his way out of this misunderstanding. Then she wrapped an arm around Puck's neck in what looked to Blaine like an affectionate wrestling hold. "C'mon, Hebrew National. Mama needs her some protein."

As they swaggered away, Blaine slipped into the driver's seat, shaking his head. Kurt's friends were great guys, but...whenever they got together, it was one WTF moment after the next. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to actually go to school here...

The ride to Quinn's house was uneventful. Blaine lip-synched to his favorite Top-40 mix while Kurt and Quinn murmured together in the back seat. During a lull in the music, he could hear Kurt telling her "...I know he's utterly clueless _and_ a complete Neanderthal, but he has a good heart."

"I know. I just wish I knew that heart belonged to me..." Quinn replied in a quavering voice.

Blaine turned the volume up to give them some privacy.

"—It's you and me and we're runnin' this town  
And it's me and you and we're shakin' the ground  
And ain't nobody gonna tell us to go  
'Cause this is our show"

As he listened, Blaine bitterly remembered how he'd sung that verse to Kurt during his prom performance.  _Yeah. Right._

He jabbed the button to skip to the next song. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, another "Prom Queen" spinoff story, right? Oh well. This was the first Glee fic I starting writing so please bear with me. It's more than just a "missing scenes" piece. I promise.
> 
> "Tonight, Tonight" is from Hot Chelle Rae's album Whatever.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think...


	2. I Don't Know If I'll Make It

After walking Quinn to her door, Blaine returned to his car to find that Kurt had slipped into the front passenger seat. Leaving the Fabrays' Wisteria Lane-esque neighborhood, Blaine took a roundabout route on the drive to Kurt's house while holding Kurt's hand over the center console. They spent the entire trip in silence, with Blaine's music murmuring faintly in the background.

Abandoned in the back seat, Kurt's phone was buzzing practically non-stop with calls and texts from Mercedes, Rachel and the rest of the Glee kids. Having no desire at all to deal with  _them_  right now, he ignored it.

It was two in the morning when they finally arrived at the Hudson-Hummel home. As he pulled into the driveway, Blaine noticed that Finn's pick-up was nowhere in sight.

As soon as they were inside, Kurt slammed the crown down on the foyer table. His eyes were bright and glistening. His chin started to quiver _―_

 _―_ and Blaine was thrown off balance when Kurt suddenly turned and hurled himself into his arms. Blaine pulled him close as Kurt buried his face in his shoulder.

Kissing the top of Kurt's head, Blaine couldn't help but remember the boy who had come to Dalton last fall _―_ that "endearing spy" he'd escorted to the Warblers' performance of "Teenage Dream". The Kurt who was so damaged by the bullying at McKinley he'd nearly broken down crying just talking to Blaine, Wes and David about their school's zero-tolerance harassment policy.

"Shhhh..." Blaine stroked Kurt's hair. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry..." he said over and over, blinking back his own tears. Guilt gnawed at his gut.  _I'm so sorry_ I _let this happen to you..._

They stood that way for several minutes, Blaine continuing to whisper reassurances that became apologies into Kurt's ear. Then the Kurt who'd  _owned_  that crown and quipped  _"Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton"_  was back. He looked up with moist eyes and gently pressed a finger over Blaine's lips to silence him. He smiled a sad little smile. "Don't. I wouldn't have made it through this without you."

 _Yeah. Big help._  Blaine just hugged Kurt tighter, trying to ignore the lump rising in his throat.

After several more minutes, Kurt released Blaine, a resigned look falling over his face; he still had to tell his father he was home. Kurt hadn't decided whether he was going to tell him the whole story tonight or wait for tomorrow. He wouldn't lie...but Kurt still worried about his father getting emotional after his heart attack last October.

As Kurt mounted the stairs, Blaine decided to check his phone. It was going off only slightly less than Kurt's.

_Missed calls: 33_

_Later,_  he decided and accessed the text file instead. He accidentally swiped the screen too hard and ended up rolling back to the time he'd left Dalton:

_Wes  (4:31pm): Hope you have a great time! You and Kurt deserve it._

_Jeff  (4:45pm): good luk tonite blainey boy - just so u kno i put condms in ur glove cmprtmnt - cherry flavred _-  _alwys b prepard_ :-D

_**Me  (4:47pm): i looked - u weren't kidding - CHERRY?! - really? - u r a sick SICK man** _

_Jeff  (4:48pm): seriusly man i hope u & kurt hav a awesme time _:-)

_My Kurt  (5:01pm): Hope you're on your way! I'm so excited - and I just can't hide it!_

_**Me (5:05pm): yes i am! -  & the pointer sisters? - seriously?** _

_ My Kurt (5:07pm): Don't judge me, Blaine Warbler! _

_Puckasaurus  (6:03pm): operation secret servise is a go - lauren z &the glee studds r locked and loded - no worrys little dude_

_Hudson QB1  (6:36pm): quin & me leavn bredstix now - c u at prom - got yr backs_

_**Me  (7:03pm): hey sterling - we've arrivd & no riot (yet) - lol** _

_Jeff  (7:05pm): hey gelhead - so NOT lmfao - tke a breth & hve fun - use flask in cse of emergncy _;')

_Other Asian  (7:10pm): Look to your right - Tina & I sitting at table under b-ball hoop - We saved you seats_

_San-Fuckin-Tana  (8:09pm): hey frodo! stop eye fucking hummel & pay attention! youre on rite after weezie & trouty von bieberhausen_

(The contact names of the McKinley kids usually made him laugh. They'd all entered their numbers into his phone at a party without his knowledge, after Santana had expertly picked his pocket. He'd found out the next day when they all started texting him at will.)

 _Jeff  (8:27pm):_ _hey blainers - howz thngs - bet u & kurt look adorble 2gether _;')

_**Me  (8:34pm): just finished singing - so far so good - and yes we do! - see 4 yurself** _

_Jeff  (8:38pm): got the pcture of u & kurt - awww! _:-)  _btw_   _nick thnks our boy kurt looks hot hot HOTT!_

 _Nick  (8:40pm): maybe i do & maybe i dont - btw ur roommate is a fucking dick _:P

 _Jeff  (8:41pm): btw i luv it when my nicky talks dirty _*.*

_Nick  (8:44pm): tell this sex fiend 2 keep off m%9!wtf+ help!_

_**Me  (8:46pm): u guys r BOTH sex fiends - and stay off my bed! ** _ **:-O**

_Jeff  (9:49pm): sup blainey boy - thad wnts 2 kno if u & kurt hav kissed yet_

_Thad  (9:51pm): no I don't - Jeff's the perv - when I got here he was mackin on Nick ON UR BED _:{

 _Nick  (9:52pm): thad's pissed we wudnt make it a 3some! lol _:D

_**Me  (9:53pm): ON MY BED??? - start running!  
** _

That had been the last time Blaine had checked his texts; after this, he'd sung "I'm Not Gonna To Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You". And then "Tonight, Tonight" immediately afterward since Finn _―_ who was supposed to have sung Savage Garden's "Truly, Madly, Deeply" with Quinn next _―_ had been thrown out by that amazon-in-a-track-suit cheerleading coach. And then had come that heinous coronation ceremony. So, from here on, everything was new to him:

_Jeff  (10:49pm): thnking of u & kurt - enjoy ur last dance - rite now nicky & i are dancin 2 bryan adams heaven_

_David  (11:11pm): How was the prom? Jeff is too busy sucking Nick's face off to text you_

_Trent  (11:14pm): we r all here in ur room w8ing for u 2 call w/ the deets - holla at da boy!_

_Thad  (11:26pm): ur silence mocks us sir!_

_Wes  (11.28pm): Sorry. I'm trying to get these jerks to stop bothering you._

_Jeff  (12:21am): blaine stud - r u & kurt makin a littl paradise by the dashbord lites? thats so nasty! dnt do anythng i wuldnt do _:-D

 _Nick  (12:23am): btw therz NUTHIN jeff wont do! _O_o

_Divalicious  (1:01am): guess my white boys still dont feel like talking - how r u guys?_

_Rachel Berry  (1:12am): Everyone still at Denny's. Please come._

_I'm Brittany, Bitch!  (1:27am): hi blanewarbler! my dolfin duznt anser - puck sez its cuz ur havin rainbow sex - yay! _:) _cll me aftr_

_I'm Brittany, Bitch!  (1:31am): b respnsible - skittles r gay birth control pills - ttyl _

_Rachel Berry  (1:40am): Blaine Anderson. Call. Us. NOW._

_Jeff  (1:44am): evry1 else asleep - time 2 kiss & tell blainey boy - whut r u & kurt doin rite now? wanky  
_

_Chapstik Cowboy  (1:49am): hey - u ok? u ned 2 call - ppl r frekn out _

_San-Fuckin-Tana  (1:51am): talk to me richie rich - britbrit & everyone here worried about hummel - wazzup?_

_San-Fuckin-Tana  (1:54am): call NOW keebler elf! or i will go all lima hites adjacent on your hobbit ass!_

_San-Fuckin-Tana  (1:55am): BTW - in case yooz a wonderin - thatz BAD!_

_Jeff  (2:03am): that crzybitch cherleader satanna just calld the dorm fone lookn for u & kurt - sounded pissd - whats wrng?_

_Jeff  (2:06am): wtf man - call me_

_Jeff  (2:08am): ? ? ? ? CALL ME NOW_

_Jeff  (2:09am): cmon buddy ur scaring me_

_Jeff  (2:09am): pleez - r u ok?  
_

Sighing, Blaine called up the keypad and thumbed a reply.

_**Me  (2:12am): hey** _

It seemed he'd barely hit "send" when Jeff texted back with:

_Jeff  (2:12am): r u &kurt ok?_

Blaine stayed with the one-word answers:

_**Me  (2:13am): yes** _

He prayed that would be enough. _Just leave it alone, Jeff. Please _―__

_Jeff  (2:14am): y did that spansh girl call here? y r kurts frends lookn 4 u?_

Blaine sighed; he'd known Jeff wouldn't let it rest.

_**Me  (2:16am): we r at kurts house - evrythng ok** _

He knew what Jeff would think after reading that:  _Bullshit!_

_Jeff  (2:16am): bullshit - somthins w rong - did somthng happn at prom ?_

Blaine didn't want to answer. His eyes began to burn at the thought of telling Jeff and the others. But Jeff persisted.

_Jeff  (2:17am): did thos fuckin ass holes try 2 hurt u or kurtt ?!_

_Jeff  (2:18am): answr me ! ! !_

Blaine's eyes were swimming. He could barely see to send the reply.

_**Me  (2:20am): thos fckin g asshole s votd kurtr prom q ueen** _

Blaine's cell buzzed ten seconds later with an incoming call. The screen lit with the name  _Jeff_  and a picture of his smirking friend giving the one-finger salute _._

Blaine answered; before he could say more than "Hi", Jeff, sounding miserable, blurted: "Oh,  _fuck_ , man. I'm so sorry..."

Jeff's phone must've been on speaker since Blaine could also hear everyone else talking in the background: "Blaine? How's Kurt?" Nick asked. David's tone was clipped as he said, "I've got Kurt's address. We're leaving  _now."_  Then Thad hollered, " _Hell,_  yeah! You bet we are." Wes was saying something about finding someone to sign them out and Trent was sleepily asking what was going on.

Wiping his eyes, Blaine couldn't help thinking how great his friends were; he smiled in spite of everything. "Guys, calm down! It's over. We're okay."

Jeff was angry now. "Those shitheads. What happened?"

Blaine took a deep breath and gave the Warblers a brief accounting of the prom incident. After a long silence, Jeff said,  _"Damn._  I wish we'd been there to see Kurt stick it up their asses."

Blaine snorted bitterly. "Go on YouTube, Jeff. I'm sure one of those dicks posted a video already."

There was a pause. The next time Jeff spoke, his voice was stronger: the phone was off speaker. "It's just us now, Blaine. I'm out in the hall. Talk to me."

 _What do you want me to say, Jeff? I'm pissed as hell and it SUCKS!_ Blaine laughed a humorless bark. "I'm great, Jeff. My boyfriend invites me to his prom—then makes it all about me, because  _I_  ran from my bullies. So we come here to Toxic High to shove acceptance down everyone's throats." His voice cracked. "And as his reward, Kurt gets elected Prom Queen. And there was nothing I could do about it. I've never felt better in my fucking life..."

 

* * *

 

With his back resting against the jamb, Nick Duval leaned in the open doorway of Blaine and Jeff's room watching his boyfriend pace at the far end of the dormitory hallway. Jeff, cellphone pressed to his ear, had been on with Blaine for almost half an hour. Nick couldn't help but notice that most of the time Jeff was listening, his face scrunched up in concern.

Nick had been best friends with Jeff Sterling since kindergarten (with the two having become a couple just this past December). He understood that Jeff and Blaine also shared a special bond. Both boys had been enrolled at Dalton as a result of violent anti-gay bullying _―_ Jeff in 2008, Blaine the year after. While rooming together freshman year, they'd become close friends.

Hearing David chortle, "You are so lame, Anderson," Nick glanced inside the dorm room. David, sitting at Blaine's desk, was working on the laptop; he'd just accessed the icon-covered desktop by using Blaine's not-so-secret password:  _KatyPerryRules._

With Wes hovering over his shoulder, David entered words into the YouTube search window _._  They both hoped that this was going to be a waste of time and that Blaine's earlier comment was just angry words...and  _not_  actually prescient.

Unfortunately, they were wrong. David let out a heavy sigh as Wes muttered, "Dammit," under his breath.

Whatever could make Wes Montgomery forget his usually impeccable manners and swear  _out loud_  wasn't good. Squeezing between Thad and Trent, Nick leaned in so he could get a look at the screen himself. He bit his lip.  _Shit._

 _ **McKINLEY HIGH'S DANCING QUEENS**  _was the title of the video David's search had turned up. Posted almost three hours ago, it had already gotten one hundred twenty-three hits.

David reluctantly dragged his finger over the mousepad, clicked on the arrow and played the video.

It started with Kurt, forlorn and standing on a stage. (The recording, though obviously made with a cellphone camera, wasn't bad apart from the occasional jiggle.) As Kurt's tartan kilt and embellished black jacket raised a couple of Warbler eyebrows, a balding middle-aged man stepped up. He placed a crown on Kurt's head, then handed him a scepter. "Ladies and gentlemen, your 2011 prom queen, Kurt Hummel."

"Who's that asshat?" David hissed.

 _The principal_ , Nick assumed, unable to believe that the man was actually condoning this cruel farce.

Kurt looked out at the crowd with equal parts of defiance and anxiety as he stepped up to the microphone to speak. After chuckling at Kurt's Kate Middleton quip, the Warblers watched him step down from the stage with the burly football player who wore the king's crown _―the psycho who'd sent him running to Dalton,_ Nick suddenly realized _―_ to dance the coronation dance. The prank, intentionally or not, had paired Kurt up with the bully who'd harassed and threatened him.

Prom King and "Queen" uneasily faced each other on the dance floor as the music started _―_ ABBA's "Dancing Queen". Wes shook his head at the unfortunate song choice as Thad groaned, "You gotta be fuckin'  _kidding_  me!" Then Kurt and Karofsky started talking, the bully looking more and more agitated as the conversation went on.  
_  
No, not agitated _―s_ cared, _Nick realized after putting on his glasses.  _What's that all about?_

Suddenly Karofsky stormed off, leaving poor Kurt alone and the focus of everyone's attention. Just as Nick's heart was sinking, a familiar dapper figure stepped up behind Kurt, tapped him on the shoulder and offered his hand. Kurt smiled, took it and he and Blaine started dancing. " _Atta_ boy, Blainers," Wes praised.

Then a brunette in a pink dress _―_ New Directions' obnoxious lead singer _―_ and the blond guy who'd sung the duet at Sectionals joined them. The rest of the Glee Club followed suit.

The Warblers all grinned. Wes and David performed one of their less-complicated "bro handshakes".

The grins faded when David scrolled down to the comments:

_\- who do these fuckin fags think they are?_

_\- If this had been my school we'd have kicked there asses!_

_\- This IS my school - I felt bad for the poor kid + his boyfriends cute_

_\- Yeah, lay off him - It's better than if Quinn Fabray won! lol_

_\- I hope ur both chicks - STFU and go watch Gossip Girl_

_\- dude showed up in a skirt - whattaya expect - fairy shoulda got alot worse_

_\- Glee club's little lady boy has been asking for it for a long time._ _  
_

_\- Fuck off. Ever hear of tolerance? It IS 2011, assholes!_

The Warblers were struck silent by the ignorance and hate expressed in the majority of the comments. "David, shut it off," Wes finally said, "I think we've seen enough."

As David complied, Trent piped up. "Do we tell Blaine?"

The boys just exchanged uncertain glances until Nick broke the silence. "Yeah...but not right now. Just let him be there for Kurt." The others nodded somberly.

Only when he felt his boyfriend's arms wrap around him from behind did Nick realize that Jeff was back and off the phone.  _How long has he been standing there?_ Jeff didn't say a word; he just pulled Nick in close and stared at the now-blank screen.

Nick first wondered how Blaine was doing _―_ then how much of the video and its comments Jeff had seen.

First, from the worry Nick could see in Jeff's eyes, he guessed not well.

Then, noticing his clenched jaw, he reckoned Jeff had seen  _more_  than enough. 

_Damn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope I didn't go too crazy with the texts. It just started to snowball...
> 
> Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think..


	3. But Watch How Good I'll Fake It

The air in the dorm room was thick with tension. No one had spoken since David had logged off Blaine's computer.

Jeff flopped down on the foot of his bed and just stared into space. Uncharacteristically silent, he flipped his cellphone over and over in his restless fingers. His stomach was in knots. It was bad enough he'd let those comments get to him (and that the idea of telling Blaine and Kurt about that YouTube video made him sick) but...he couldn't stop worrying about how his conversation with Blaine had ended...

 _As Jeff paced, he couldn't remember the last time Blaine had been this upset. (The closest runner-up had to be the day before Christmas break―after he'd checked his e-mails and gotten the one-two punch of his parents_ and _brother_ _Cooper_ _each informing him that last-minute "obligations" would prevent them from making it home for the holidays.)_

_Even after venting for over half an hour, Blaine was still emotional. He was really beating himself up over the whole Kurt-being-elected-Prom-Queen fiasco. Jeff was trying to talk him down, but he could barely get a word in._

_Then Blaine abruptly stopped talking. "Buddy, I'm not gettin' off this phone until you can tell me that you're okay," Jeff told his friend after a long silence._

_He heard a single hollow chuckle, then Blaine muttering: "Then you're gonna be on here for a while..."_

_Jeff didn't like the sound of that, but before he could say anything further, Blaine said, "Kurt's coming back from talking to his dad. I gotta go," and hung up before Jeff could protest..._

Jeff just sat there. He knew Blaine too well―and right now, he knew that he'd lied to get off the phone.

The other five boys exchanged furtive glances; no one was willing to voice the question on everyone's mind. Recognizing Jeff would rather be alone, Wes herded the Warblers off to bed. After steering a half-sleeping Trent out into the hall, he gave his worried friend a compassionate smile and softly closed the door on his way out.

Of course Nick had stayed. He sat down on the bed behind Jeff, rested his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder and gently asked, "What?"

"I dunno, Nicky..." Jeff stumbled to find the right words. "He...Blaine's _really_ taking this like...personally. Like...it's _his_ fault he didn't stop it from happening." He sighed, frustrated. "I wish he'd never gone to that _fucking_ thing..."

"What _happened?_ I mean, on the video...it _looked_ like he was having a good time after they started dancing..." Nick trailed off when Jeff gave him the hairy eyeball.

"Shields and deflectors up, Cap'n," he said in a meaningful tone, knowing his hard-core Trekkie boyfriend would get the reference.

"Yeah..." Nick nodded, recalling how well their friend could conceal his real feelings behind a calm and charming facade. At Sectionals their freshman year, Blaine had performed flawlessly with a 101-degree fever. No one but Nick and Jeff had known he was ill. At least, not until he'd passed out during the ride back to school.

Jeff, in turn, was thinking back to that evening two weeks ago, when Blaine had come back from a dinner date looking troubled. Assuming he and Kurt had quarreled, Jeff started to tease his roommate about the virtues of hot make-up sex. He _certainly_ hadn't expected Blaine to fumblingly tell him he'd just been invited to McKinley's Junior Prom. When Jeff had said nothing, Blaine just rambled about how Kurt had his heart set on going. And Blaine was totally head over heels for the kid―so _he_ was going, come hell or high water.

Though he rarely talked about it, Blaine had never hidden the fact he'd been enrolled at Dalton to escape the bullying at his old school. His inner circle of friends knew that he'd had "the living crap beat out of him" by going to a Sadie Hawkins Dance with another gay boy. And that he hadn't been to another dance since because of it.

Only Jeff and Nick knew the _whole_ story. And, from the moment Blaine had mentioned that fucking prom, Jeff had watched the tension building in his friend. The nightmares started soon after, _really_ bad ones. But every time he'd tried to talk to him, Blaine―skillfully masking his true feelings behind that annoying barrier of calm―just deflected his concern with a smile, telling Jeff he was fine.

But he couldn't hide the haunted look that flickered behind his eyes.

So Jeff tried to be supportive. He'd loaned Blaine his late grampa's "little pick-me-up" flask―the contents of which had been smuggled in for the "better-luck-next-year" party the Warbler seniors had thrown after the loss at this year's Regionals. The condoms were for laughs. (When he'd seen them in the store, he couldn't resist.) Then Jeff (with Nick's help) had obnoxiously texted him throughout the evening―making sure Blaine knew that he was there and only a phone call away if necessary.

When Jeff had finally called Blaine, his friend's tone of voice had immediately put Jeff in mind of that haunted look...

 

* * *

 

At Denny's, the New Directions kids had pushed three tables together to accommodate their party of ten. The food had long since been ordered, served and eaten. By the time the waitress got around to bussing their tables, the kids had segregated themselves into small groups.

At one end sat Zizes and Puck, listening to Santana outline her campaign to hunt down the Prom Queen culprit and the parts they would play in it. Lauren cracked her knuckles in anticipation; Puck, totally turned on by the wrestler's display of aggression, stared at her with obvious lust.

Rachel, Mercedes and Tina huddled together at the center table, each holding their phones and waiting for any word from Kurt. Though concerned for their friend, Rachel was distracted as she considered the romantic implications of Finn's actions last night while Mercedes recalled her Cinderella moment with Sam.

Artie had dozed off in his wheelchair, the stress of being interrogated by Sue Sylvester having caught up with him. Brittany was draped across his lap, head resting on his shoulder as she, too, started to drift off.

At the far end, Sam sat alone, staring into space. His hands were cupped around his now-lukewarm mug of coffee―the only thing he'd been able to afford with the buck and change remaining from his "prom-on-a-budget" twenty-dollar bill.

Returning from a trip to the men's room, Mike Chang noticed Sam's faraway gaze and slid into the chair beside him. No reaction. Pulling one of his goofiest "derp" expressions, he suddenly leaned into Sam's space, putting his face inches from the other boy's.

Jerked back to reality, Sam jumped. "Whoa!" A startled grin stretched his lips as he focused on Mike. "S'up, ninja. Stalk much?"

"Racist much?" Mike smirked in reply. He quirked an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Nothin'." Seeing Mike giving him a skeptical glare, Sam chuckled. _"Really,"_ he assured him.

He glanced down at his phone on the table. "Just...zoning."

His last outgoing text was still on the screen: _cmon - plz call if u ok  
_

 

* * *

 

Jeff was right; Blaine had lied.

He was alone in the Hudson-Hummel family room. He'd only told Jeff that Kurt was coming to get off the phone. He didn't want to talk about that frigging prom anymore. He just wanted to forget...

...which was going to be hard with his phone still receiving texts:

 _Puckasaurus (2:29am): dude - only excus 4 n_ _ot callin is yur makin my boy hummell hit that hi F the fun way_

_San-Fuckin-Tana (2:32am): yo dapper douche - DONT MAKE ME COME LOOKING FOR YOU! _

_Chapstik Cowboy (2:34am): cmon - plz call if u ok  
_

Blaine was about to thumb a reply when his phone vibrated in his hand; the screen lit with:

_My Kurt (2:36am): Rest assured that Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are alive and well. Both are exhausted. (Not from that, Puckerman; I remain virgo intacta!) Will talk to you all later today.  
_

Kurt's blanket text brought a smile to his face. _Virgo intacta? TMI, Kurt..._

It was a good five minutes more before Kurt came back downstairs. From the expression on his face, Blaine gathered that the conversation _could_ have gone better―but hadn't been as bad as expected. He hoped Kurt's father hadn't gone overboard on the _I knew it's!_ and the _I told you so's!_ In the end, Blaine was just relieved that Burt Hummel hadn't come charging down the stairs with his oft-mentioned shotgun.

Kurt walked over to Blaine and wrapped an arm around his waist. After giving him a kiss on the temple, Blaine toed off his shoes and went over to the DVD rack. He pulled out one of Kurt's "feel-good" movies: _Gone With the Wind_.

They settled down on the big couch to watch, Kurt snuggling up against Blaine. The movie began. As Blaine idly stroked Kurt's hair, he could feel the other boy's tension easing. It wasn't until after Scarlett had thrown the vase at the mantle and was engaged in her verbal battle with Rhett Butler that Blaine realized Kurt had stopped mouthing Vivien Leigh's dialogue.

Kurt had drifted off, a faint smile on his lips. Thank God.

Blaine couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to the prom. For Kurt, this was to have been a triumphant evening of redemption and acceptance for them both.

Blaine had just prayed non-stop that their night didn't end in the emergency room with their heads bashed in.

Kurt had needed him to be Perfect Blaine, all strong and supportive, who spouted crap like "Courage"―not Scared-Shitless Blaine, who remembered what had happened at the last dance he'd gone to and was just waiting for history to repeat itself. So he'd given an Oscar-fucking-winning performance tonight. _And the award for calm, cool and collected boyfriend goes to...Blaine Anderson._

Calm Blaine― _who'd wanted to jump out of his skin every time someone brushed up against him tonight..._

Cool Blaine― _who'd made sure Lauren or Puck or Finn or Mike was watching over Kurt any time he might be left alone..._

Collected Blaine― _who'd wanted to grab Kurt and run from the gym rather than dance that coronation dance to "Dancing Queen"..._

Blaine slammed his fist down on the arm of the couch. _Stop it!_ The memories receded.

Kurt stirred, murmuring adorably in his sleep. Blaine gently eased away, lowering him onto the cushions without waking him.

He walked into the living room and flopped into some random chair. As much as he tried not to, he kept the seeing sick and stricken look on Kurt's face when the Prom Queen announcement was made and they were hit with the spotlight. He'd been ready for the possibility of harsh words and flying fists, but not that sneak attack...

Blaine stared into the other room at Kurt's angelic face. Those rose-petal lips were curved in a contented smile that tugged at his heart. _In spite of what you've been through, you're so naïve. You think you can fight that kind of hate with attitude and a snappy comeback. You don't know how bad it can get._ I _do_. _That's why I'm supposed to protect you_. He angrily swiped away the tears now trickling down his face. _Yeah, right._ _Let's hear it for "Blaine Warbler"...the big-shot fight-club founder and bogus knight-in-shining-armor._

Blaine pulled his legs in up against his chest and hugged them tight. _That fucking cesspool McKinley...it's like_ A Clockwork Orange, _where the thugs run wild and nobody cares._ _How could you have_ wanted _to go back? How could I have_ let _you go back?_ As the lump returned to his throat, he tried to focus on something―anything else:

 _It's been a really really messed up week_  
_Seven days of torture, seven days of bitter_  
_And my girlfriend went and cheated on me_  
_She's a California dime, but it's time for me to quit her._

The music wasn't working this time. Blaine felt himself breathing faster. All the pent up tension and anxiety that had begun building when Kurt had asked him to go to that goddamned prom was boiling to the surface and his heart was beating faster and harder and suddenly there was no air.

 _La la la, whatever! (and what if they'd hurt him _―__ _)_  
_La la la, it doesn't matter! (_ _Kurt...all bruised and bleeding like _―__ _)_  
_La la la, oh well! (and I couldn't live with myself if he was _―_ _)_  
_ _La la la...SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

Then he _lost_ it. His mind began to vomit up fractured memories of the worst night of his life and he was re-living the vicious beating he'd received three years ago just for going to a school dance with a boy― _but this time it was Kurt Hummel standing with him outside the gymnasium after the dance..._

 _Just don't stop_  
_Let's keep the beat pumpin'!_

 _...as blood poured down his forehead and into his eyes,_ _he was watching Kurt with his back up against a wall while some drunk jock whaled on his face..._

 _Keep the beat up_  
_Let's drop the beat down!_

 _...and he could see_ _Kurt_ _strapped to a gurney with that big collar around his neck and being taken away by the EMTs..._

_It's my party, dance if I want to!  
_

_...and_ Kurt _lying in a hospital bed with a busted lip and both eyes blackened and swollen shut and so many other bruises marring that pale complexion and―_

_We can get crazy, let it all out!_

Blaine mashed his face into his upturned knees as a crippling pain spread through his chest like his pounding heart was bursting and he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on shouting the song in his head hoping to try and stop the panic attack as it swallowed him whole...

 

* * *

 

...

"―laine―"

_Voice._

"―dude it―"

_Familiar voice._

"―gonna be―"

_Wha―what...?_

Blaine had no idea how much time had passed when he realized Finn was there now, hugging him and telling him in a soft yet frightened voice that everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments, thoughts, et cetera are welcomed.


End file.
